


Between the Lines

by rowofstars



Series: The Between Verse [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Alternate Universe, Angst, Doggy Style, F/M, Infidelity, Non-Cursed AU, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Runaway Bride, Smut, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, pawn shop sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: Belle, unhappily engaged to Gaston, has a little something with Mr. Gold on the side. Of course both of them want more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IDK. I had a lot of angst about the show after 6x08 and it needed an outlet. I'm sorry. This is not related to Lesson Plans at all and was actually written first.

Belle French was beautiful.

And it wasn’t her long brunette hair with the curls that sometimes seemed to have a mind of their own, her perfectly toned legs, or bright blue eyes. It wasn’t her soft, milky skin, her full, smiling lips, or the dangerously short skirts she sometimes wore that made Belle French gorgeous. It was everything; her kindness, her caring, her intelligence, and the ferocity with which she fought for what she believed in. 

She was lithe and lovely and nothing he deserved.

Gold’s hand slipped into her hair, the curls tangling around his fingers as he kissed her. It was rough and wet, his mouth sealed over hers, tongue moving against hers desperately, as if he was suffocating and she was air. Belle moaned at the way his fingers pushed into her, her slick pussy fluttering and then squeezing him. She was always like this, tight and hot, her arousal dripping over his hand and running down the side of the jewelry case.

Her skirt was pushed up around her waist, her light blue silk blouse unbuttoned and untucked to expose the white bra beneath. The lace was already wet from his mouth, her nipples visible through the sheer fabric, and he bent his head to take one in his mouth again. He sucked hard and pulled with his teeth, tugging the little rosy peak up and away from her body.

“Rum -” Belle gasped as her back arched. She pushed her breasts towards him, hoping his mouth would return its delicious torment.

Her hand squeaked over the glass. She tried to hold on tighter, tried to get leverage to move her hips. She wanted the bra off. She wanted all of it off, her clothes and his. She wanted him in a proper bed, over her and under her. She wanted the feeling of his skin against hers, and the heat and friction that came with it. But he was the town beast, the miserly landlord everyone feared and hated, and she was the good girl everyone adored with a fiance she didn’t love.

This was what they had. Moments between other moments, between days and weeks and the tedium of a small town. It was a reprieve from lives they no longer wanted to live, whether they knew it or not. Just another Thursday.

Gold pulled back at the sound of his name, shortened and barely more than a moan. He’d always hated it, too old fashioned, too stuffy, too likely to get him picked on or beaten by the other boys. But from her it sounded different, maybe even beautiful. She was panting and biting her lip, and he smirked as he added a third finger. It was fucked up how much he liked the scrunch of her nose, the little wince as her body adjusted and stretched just that little bit more. 

His fingers were thick and long, and he was going at a pace that had her keening. He could have stopped, but he didn’t. He wanted her to take it, his beautiful Belle French. Why she let him have her like this, he didn’t understand. But ever since that first time it had been this way, fast and hot and wet, rough and desperate and never enough. Getting enough of her was impossible.

Belle cried out and then whispered a shaky, “Please.” 

She was close, but he knew how to hold her there as long as he wanted. Gold pulled her closer to the edge of the counter, made her put her hands behind her to prop herself up, and continued his relentless pumping. She’d flipped the sign to closed and locked the door when she came in, but the blinds were open and the lights were on. It was only just after four in the afternoon. Anyone could come walking by and see them, see her with her legs spread wide open and Gold between them. They would see her head throw back as she panted and begged for what only he could give her.

Her fiance was somewhat useless in this area. Sure Gaston could make her come every now and then, but it wasn’t like this. Her toes didn’t curl, and her body didn’t quake. She didn’t crave it or seek him out. Today she’d come into Gold’s shop already wet and aching, needy because he’d been out of town for a week and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was seconds before he attacked her like a wild animal, pushing her against the case while he pulled at her clothes.

“Gold!” Belle squirmed, arching her back and twisting her hips as his fingers continued thrusting inside of her. 

Knowing what was about to happen, he pressed his thumb against her clit and let the motion of his fingers create just enough friction to bring her to orgasm. She almost screamed, catching herself after no more than a quick shout. There was a gush of liquid over his hand and the sleeve of his dress shirt. He pulled her up and she leaned on his shoulder, her breath hot on his neck as her pussy dribbled everywhere. The first time it’d happened she’d been horrified, but he felt a twisted pride at the idea that she only did this with him, that only he could make her body give up so completely.

She should have left. 

Belle was supposed to meet her fiance for dinner to talk wedding plans, and she’d need to go home and change before she could. She tried telling herself she was better off with Gaston than Gold, that they’d never work. He was too cruel and she was too soft, everyone would agree. Except, she didn’t really see it that way and all. There was more to him than anyone else knew and more that she still had to uncover. Christ, she’d barely seen him with his shirt off, but she knew he was estranged from his son and that the fallout of that relationship haunted him every day.

Exhausted and spent, Belle could have used a break, she could have hopped off the counter and sauntered out of the shop on very wobbly legs. But that wasn’t what Gold wanted. He was selfish. A right bastard, because he continued dragging his fingers her through her slit. Her body twitched against him, the shocks from touching her while she was still so sensitive making her want to push closer and pull away at the same time. He wanted her to come again. And then maybe again. He wanted to see how much she could take before she pleaded with him to stop even as her body betrayed her desire for more.

He was terrible for her and yet her she was, gripping the back of his neck and digging her nails in until he grunted.

He pulled back and looked at her. She was sweaty and dazed, completely wrecked, but smiling at him.

“That all you got?” she asked flippantly. Then she nipped at his bottom lip and flicked it with her tongue.

Gold raised an eyebrow and stepped back, pulling her down off the jewelry case. “Come here, sweetheart.”

Her belly clenched at that word. He’d only said it a couple of times, but _god_ did she want him to mean it.

Belle turned at his instruction, shifting away from the mess she’d already left on the glass, and leaned on the counter. Gold unzipped his trousers and pulled himself out, lazily stroking himself as he looked at her. Her pussy was red and tender from his fingers, but when he touched her folds with the head of his cock, she whimpered and pushed back. 

He laughed and pressed himself against her back, continuing to tease both of them by rubbing his cock on the back of her thighs. “Is this what you want?”

She made a high pitched sound. “Yes.”

He hummed and stepped back. “Open up for me.”

Belle shifted, spreading her legs just enough for him to slip between.

“That’s it,” he whispered, using his thumb to open her folds. She was wide open to him and so ready that when he pushed inside her there was a wet squelch. “Oh - sweetheart - ah - tell me -”

She gasped and pushed back against him, taking him earnestly in the hopes he’d get the message. “Fuck me,” she begged, not waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Please.”

He groaned and started to move, the angle causing her to have to go up on her toes even in her five inch heels. Her legs were straining, the muscles tired from working all day and her orgasm a few minutes ago, but the pleasure when he was all the way inside was too good. He knew it hurt her a little, but they both liked it that way. The noises she was making only encouraged him to move harder and faster, to find the limit of what they could both take. 

He didn’t deserve her. She was too good. He didn’t know if he had deserved Milah either, but he was a different man then. All he knew now was that he didn’t deserve Miss French, her company or her body, much less her affection. She was engaged so there had to be something for her in it too, something she was punishing herself for by fucking beastly old Mr. Gold. 

Maybe that’s why it was always like this, always trying to hurt each other just a little bit.

Or maybe it was because he didn’t know how to make love anymore, how to be sweet and tender. Milah had left and he became Mr. Gold. He owned things and made deals, and he always came out on top. Belle should have been running for the hills. When he grabbed her earlier she should have slapped him and called him every name in the book. That would have been what he deserved.

Instead she was just as hungry for this as he was, her body pulling at him like she didn’t want him to leave.

“Oh!” Belle cried out. “F-fuck - !”

That was it. Now she was where he wanted her with her mind half gone and a litany of filthy words falling from her lovely lips. He slowed a bit and the noise she made was almost feral. Her hand reached back, grabbed at his leg and then as his fingers. He let her have his hand, let her squeeze it like she needed him closer than he was.

“Come on, baby,” he grunted, not even knowing what he was saying as he was moving his hips back and forth. There was nothing but heavy breathing and the wet sound of his pelvis slapping against her backside.

She gasped with each buck as he buried himself as deep as possible. His strokes got shorter and sharper, and so did the sounds she made. Eventually it was just grunts and panting until she tensed around him. He held there for a second, fighting to hold off his own orgasm until she was done. There was nothing like the feeling of her squeezing him, the flutters and pulsing and the intense heat surrounding him. Finally, he could bear it no longer and pulled out, spilling himself in his free hand. There was too much though and some got on the back of her leg, trickling its way down to her shoe.

Hovering over her, pelvis resting on her pert ass and hands on either side of her, Gold panted and tried to catch his breath. She was still holding on to his hand, her fingers more lax now, but not getting go. He didn’t understand why she didn’t tell him to move, why she didn’t push him away immediately. He wasn’t worthy and certainly she knew that. Or maybe it was because she would never do that, because she was kind, sweet, beautiful Belle.

Beautiful Belle who liked regency romance novels and a good, deep fucking. Who swore like a sailor when she came, and never took off her mother’s necklace. Who shared a cup of tea with him and then kissed him senseless on the day after she got engaged.

After catching her breath, Belle cooed softly and pushed Gold backwards until he straightened. Then she turned and asked, “You alright?”

Truthfully, no, he wasn’t.

“Aye,” he breathed, wiping his hand on the handkerchief from his pocket. She held his gaze for a moment. Her eyes were wide and searching, but eventually she looked away.

Remembering that he’d made a mess on her too, he shuffled to the side and grabbed the box of tissues that sat by the register. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, as she pulled a few from of the box.

She shook her head and bent to catch the sticky line that had run down her leg. “Don’t be.”

They cleaned themselves up as best they could, though Belle knew she’d have to shower before dinner. She was sweaty and smelled like sex, and her hair was probably in a state too, since Gold always liked to put his hands in it.

Gold went to step away, but Belle caught him by the lapels of his now rumpled suit jacket and pulled him to her. His body fell against hers, pushing her back against the counter just like when this whole thing had started. He looked down at her, brushed a lock of hair back from her forehead and realized this was probably the closest to alright he’d ever be. Then he bent his head and kissed her, tilting his head when she opened her mouth and stroking her tongue with his.

After a few more seconds, he pulled away, and Belle let her hands run down his jacket, smoothing the fabric. She was going to be sore later. She’d be sitting at dinner with Gaston with bruising from Gold's hips and a deep ache in her pussy. She’d try to focus on wedding plans and what her fiance was saying about work, all the while remembering the feeling of Gold fucking her so deep she saw stars. Her eyes shut against the burning sting of tears, fighting to hold them back. She couldn’t keep doing this.

“I have to go,” she said, looking towards the door. It seemed strangely far away, like the room was bending around her and she blinked.

Gold nodded and swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Have a good evening, Miss French.”

She winced, hating the way he slipped back into formality and distance so easily. “Good night, Mr. Gold.”

She felt his eyes on her the whole way to the door, and once she was outside she looked back and saw him staring at her through the glass of the shop window. It was the first time she'd ever looked back. The scalding hot shower she took when she got home wasn’t enough to take away the memory of his hands on her, or the loosen the ache between her legs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow up written for a-monthly-rumbelling. The prompts were: Storm, Adultery, Warmth, Loneliness, Rough, and that just felt like it fit this verse perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For mariequitecontrarie on the occasion of her birthday. I'm sorry this sucks.

Belle felt it again, the odd mix of deja vu and foreboding that signaled you were about to make the same mistake twice. Or in her case, since her panties were on the floor and Gold’s face was already between her thighs, teasing and kissing his way up, it was probably for the seventeenth time. 

Outside, the thunder rumbled, low and long, drowning out the white noise of the rain until it settled again. It wasn’t as loud as it had been earlier, when she’d gotten caught up in the start of the storm. She had only a few seconds to find shelter somewhere before she was going to get drenched. She’d checked her phone this morning, and it hadn’t called for rain until much later tonight. 

Stupid weather app.

Gold’s shop was conveniently _right there_ , and the light was on, shining out into the rapidly darkening sky like some kind of fucking lighthouse metaphor. She should have been on the other side of the street, where she actually lived, at least for a few more days anyway. But apparently her subconscious had other ideas.

He’d been standing at the counter, looking over the ledgers for his rental accounts when she came in, shivering from the rain and chilling wind.

_He looked up, eyes wide in surprise. “Belle.”_

God, _she loved the way he said her name. It always felt like he hadn’t seen her in years, like she was the best thing he’d seen all day. Like she meant more than a quick, adulterous fuck, more than a debt paid. It was a nice thought, but she had to remind herself it wasn’t real, wasn’t possible._

_With a quick shake of her head, she strode forward and kissed him, hard, swiping his lips with her tongue just to taste him. When she pulled back his mouth was open, and his eyes were dark and dangerous as ever. They both needed the same thing._

_“You should fuck me,” she said. Her head tilted like she was waiting for him to decide, as if there was a chance he might decline. There were first times for everything._

_He straightened and squared his shoulders, affecting that signature look that sent late rent payers scurrying for the change in their couch cushions. But his hands were still at her waist, fingers tightening and pulling her close. “That so?”_

Now they were here, in the back workroom of his shop, as sinful and debauched as any previous Thursday.

The first time he’d gone down on her it was like he’d never done it before. He was all over the place, his rhythm, his mouth, his hands. But he got her off anyway and left a sticky, glistening mess all over the quilt that covered the cot in his back room. She remembered the dazed, tingly feeling and the way her arms felt like jelly as she pushed herself upright. The look on his face had been indescribable. It always was in that brief moment between bliss and reality when he looked at her like he wanted to both devour her and be consumed by her, like being on his knees on the dusty wood floor in the back of his shop, eating her out was the best goddamn place to be on the planet.

But there was more to it. Sometimes when she caught his eye, not just when they were alone but across the diner at Granny’s or passing on the street outside Marco’s, there was a depth there she felt like she could fall into, fall forever and never hit the ground. No one ever looked at her like Gold did.

Maybe that’s why she was here, again, the same cot, the same quilt, the same mistake. After her own wedding rehearsal no less. They opted not to have a dinner afterwards, so Gaston could have his bachelor party tonight and spend tomorrow in a half hungover, red eyed stupor. He’d probably puke his guts out on Keith’s bathroom floor. That was after he had his face in some stripper’s tits. Oh, sure, he _said_ there wouldn’t be anything more than drinking, but she knew better.

At least, she used to. Gold more than knew what he was doing now, though, the gentle, soft laps of his tongue giving way to lips and teeth, and two long fingers curled deep inside her. It was just right, and maybe this time would be enough, maybe she’d get it out of her system and accept her fate. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t, but it was worth trying this one last time.

Her hand tightened in his hair as her hips bucked against his face. “I’m - _oh_ -”

Belle finished the sentence in her head: I’m leaving him. I’m in love with you. I’m not the person I thought I was.

The back of her hand muffled her cries as she arched up off the old cot. Gold kept a firm hand on her hip and pushed her back down, his mouth not letting up until he had drunk down every drop of her. He moaned against her and felt a tremor ripple through her body. Lifting his head, he took her in, propped up on her elbows. disheveled and gorgeous as ever.

He exhaled and swallowed. “You’re - “

_Terrible. Lying. Fucked._

The words flashed through her head so fast that she almost didn’t hear him. 

“ - beautiful.”

Belle blinked. It was true, she supposed. She was all of those things. If she wanted to run away, now would be the time. He wouldn’t come after her. Reaching for him, she grabbed a handful of his dark purple shirt. 

_Make it all stop._

God help him, he really did love her, like he'd never loved anyone else. That's why he couldn’t give in, that’s why he couldn’t have her, _shouldn’t_ have her. He’d ruin it like he had everything else that was soft and good and kind in his life. Perhaps, even after she was married, after this thing with them was over, they could still have tea and debates on the classics. Perhaps someday he’d loan her his dog-eared copy of _The Acid House. She’d probably be shocked that it had always been a favorite._

__

__

He puts a hand on the cot to steady himself and leans in. Her mouth was sweet, yielding, at first, until she ran her tongue over his teeth. Then she made a noise, a groan or something, feral and dark, something that matches the mood of the weather and the swirling thoughts in his head. They moved together, his hands coming up to her sides as she laid back and brought him with her.

"What do you want?" Gold asked, settling his hips between her legs. Not for the first time he wished they were in a bed, his bed, skin to skin where he could let the warmth of her seep into his bones. 

Her nails dug into the back of his neck as she pulled him down, mashing their mouths together. He opened readily, completely, and kissed her back. Everything was teeth and lips, skin and mouths, until it felt like they were tearing at each other. Heat coursed in his veins and he pressed himself closer, feeling her hips shift against him. One hand was in her hair, the other pushing her skirt up around her waist.

 

Belle broke the kiss first and turned her head, baring her neck to him as she worked at his belt. He didn't bite, but scraped his teeth along her throat, following it with wet lips, red from her kisses. She bucked her hips into his and moaned as her hands tugged on his zipper. This was what he knew she wanted, what she needed. Of maybe it’s what she’s letting herself have. He didn’t really know what kept bringing her back to his door and his makeshift bed, why she gave him this reprieve from life only to take it away again. She had a fiance, but that was easily remedied if she wanted it to be. Perhaps she didn’t.

And that had always kept him from asking.

Belle had always wanted so many things she could never have, and for a while she thought Gold was just another part of that. But they were more alike than she'd admit. Some part of her knew they would meld perfectly. If only the world was a better place, if only her father had made better decisions, if only they were better people.

Gold dropped his head to her collarbone, resting his forehead against her chest. He breathed and the air tickled her, cooling the sweat between her breasts. The hand she had on his trousers stilled for moment. He nosed at her skin, following the edge of her bra to the lacy peak. He lapped at the fabric, suckled her nipple, just a little, and her heart beat faster.

His mouth teased her breasts, tugging at her nipples through the lace and satin, until her fingers were in his hair again. He drew up to get them face to face, their chests pressed together. He could feel the rapid thumping of her heart, almost right against his, and the push of her ribs as she inhaled. For a long moment, their bodies were synchronized, like walking next to someone and falling into step. When she pulled him down and kissed him, the spell was broken, and he realized that it was actually possible to feel completely alone even when he was as physically close to another person as he could be.

She pulled away, trailing a thin string of saliva between them, and stared up at him, panting through reddened lips. “I thought I said you should fuck me?”

Gold’s eyebrows lifted as he reached down to finish the job she started on his trousers and boxers, freeing his cock and shoving the rest down to his knees. There was still that nagging desire to know the feeling of her without the tangle and scratch of clothing. He took himself in hand and pressed between her thighs, feeling her wet, swollen pussy open for him. His cock slid into her in one steady motion, and he watched as her eyes fluttered shut, her mouth opening in a sigh until he was buried deep.

“Better?” he asked, smirking, and was rewarded with a quick jut of her hips.

Their rhythm was slow at first, until she spread her knees wider and planted her feet. He pushed up on his hands and thrust sharply, making her bite her lip at the feeling of him bottoming out inside her. He knew by her little grunt that it hurt when he moved like this, but she always seemed to want it this way. It was harder and faster, less care than he’d take if he could truly have her for himself. Oh, he’d still make her scream, but he’d take his time getting there, letting her orgasms rise slowly until she shook with pleasure. When she couldn't stand it anymore, then he’d give her want she wanted, he’d give her rough and fast and hand prints on her thighs. 

She keened and arched up against him, her thighs burning a little from the strain of keeping pace. Her breathing was hard, her chest dotted with sweat, and there was a lump in the mattress that poked her between her shoulders. Once, after a fight with Gaston, she’d thought about going to Gold’s house. Maybe then he would have taken her into his bed and let her mess up his silk sheets. She would have liked that. She would have liked something slower and softer.

But this felt so good, and if this really was the last time for them, she wouldn’t let herself regret it. She should be wracked with guilt, and later she probably would be, just like every time before. Right now there was only the thick, hot slid of Gold’s cock inside her and the clenching of her pussy. 

She met his eyes for a second, feeling herself be drawn in, their depths making her want to fall. Then she squeezed her eyelids shut as her nails dug into his back. Her orgasm was close, her body tensing with anticipation as she tried to find that little bit more that would send her over. He moved above her, shifted his weight to the side, and then his hand was between them, his thumb rubbing at her clit. It was just enough to break the dam and send pleasure rushing over her. She cried out, letting her mouth open wide, her teeth bared. There was no point in holding herself back now. Everything was brighter, lighter. She felt weightless and distant from the world, almost pure. 

Gold watched every moment as she came, the images burning into his mind to be recalled on the countless lonely nights that he knew were coming. The feeling of her, hot and tight, spasming around him, pulled him over a few seconds later. He groaned and leaned down on his elbows, trying to hold himself off of her even as his arms threatened to give out. His cock pulsed and he lifted his head, leaving his neck open. It’s a vulnerability he was only vaguely aware of, but then again she’d be ripping his heart out soon anyway when she married another man. Why not let her slit his throat too? Bleeding out seemed a better bet than knowing this was the end and having to live with her living with another man.

They stayed like that for a minute or so, their chests almost touching, warm breathy pants in each others’ ears. Then she shifted, and rolled away. The change from wet warmth to the sticky cold made him wince, and suddenly the sharp ache in his ankle was more pronounced as well. Everything was harsher without her.

“Belle," he said, moving to sit up as she scooted to the edge of the cot. His voice was hoarse, but stable. “Belle, I -”

"Don't," she replied softly, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she buttoned up her blouse. There were still wet patches on her bra from his mouth.

It didn’t matter, whatever it was he was going to try to say. It didn’t change the reality of what they were. She was sweaty and his come was slowly leaking out of her, but that wasn’t what made her feel dirty. None of this did. Strangely, it was the thought of what was coming, just a day and a half away. 

Her wedding.

Gold sighed and leaned in to kiss her ear, her neck. She sighed too. It wasn’t sadness, exactly, just a bone weary feeling. It was about taking. She took, but he did too, that was their thing, this weird, mutual consuming. She had always been terrible at holding back. Too impulsive, her mother told her once. She’d let herself get drawn in, she let herself take something, and maybe she gave up a little something too.

Eventually Belle stood up, picked up her panties from the floor, and went into the little washroom. She stared at herself in the oval mirror over the old pedestal sink. The bathroom was dingy, but she didn’t care, it fit with this whole self destructive theme she had going, the one where she made all the wrong choices with all the best intentions. She turned on the sink and let the cool water run over her hands and down her wrists, her head empty of thought for the moment. She didn’t feel wrecked yet, but she looked it. Red lips, marks just under her collar bone, a flush high on her cheeks. It would all fade by morning. She splashed some water on her face and patted it try with a faded green hand towel. Then she wiped between her thighs with some toilet paper, trying to get cleaned up enough that it wouldn’t be running down her leg all the way back to her apartment, and pulled on her panties.

When she came back into the room, Gold was still sitting there, his trousers back in place and his shirt tucked in. He hadn’t bothered to fetch his tie or jacket. His elbows rested on his thighs, his hands hanging between his knees. He wanted her to slip into the sheets on his bed, or even under the thin, worn quilt on this cot. He wanted her warm, naked body curved into his, and to see her face in the early morning light.

She had never hesitated this long, and he wondered if this was finally the time something changed. She would spend an hour chatting with him about books or world history, but as soon as they were done fucking, she was out the door. He could never come up with a reason for her to stay.

Belle exhaled. "I have to go.” 

Gold nodded without looking at her. “I know.”

Everything she'd tried to forget was bubbling up in her. It shouldn't have happened like that, any of it. It shouldn't have happened at all, but it did and here they were. Somewhere her nineteen year old self was still standing on the front lawn in the rain, screaming at her father while a blue pickup truck tore into the driveway, throwing gravel.

_No one decides my fate but me._

“You don’t have to, you know.”

She stopped halfway to the curtained doorway and closed her eyes. He meant she didn’t have to go. She could stay and they could fuck again. He didn’t mean what she wanted him to mean.

“Yeah,” she said, refusing to look back at him. “I do.”

She heard him stand up, heard the tap of his cane, and felt him inch closer. “I do,” she repeats, her voice almost a whisper.

“ _Belle_ -”

She shook her head, but her feet were already moving, propelling her towards the front door and out into the rain. His voice was entirely too desperate, too needy. She couldn’t deal with that right now. Or ever. She looked up at the dark gray sky for a moment, feeling like she was trying to repossess her own body. She felt sore and heavy, and oddly separate from the world, like she had left a part of herself inside the pawn shop. It was too easy to feel him behind her, that confident presence she’s come to know too well. She sucked in a breath, and blows it out through pursed lips. She told herself this was it, it was over, a few other familiar lies.

Lightning flashed overhead and she stepped off the curb, hurrying towards home.

Belle squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, sending a cascade of water droplets to the floor. A lock of wet hair stuck to her cheek and she pulled at it absently before reaching for the door to her apartment. She hadn’t thought about the day she left home in a long time, but she supposed cheating on your fiance for the umpteenth time, and a pending marriage you didn’t really want could bring up some things. The person she had been, the girl who wanted to do the brave thing, was long gone. She’d been worn down by the realities of life.

She sighed and stepped inside, the door shutting behind her to the grinding rumble of the storm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another storm, another moment, and a final declaration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the August prompt at a-monthly-rumbelling: "runaway bride"  
> For the amazing MarieQuiteContrarie, who has been with me on this from the beginning and who is a magnificent beta and friend.

It seemed it was always raining when these things happened.

Her wedding dress was a soggy mess on the floor, the hemline and the train ruined by the mud and leaves, the skirt torn on the side from a well-placed tree branch. It didn’t matter; she hated that dress with its frills and swags. The garish bows and stiff corsetry were a symbol of everything that was wrong with her life, the pomp and pretense and lies; all the things that had kept her caged for too long.

Her hair started falling out of her half-updo as she leaned back on the table, bracing her hands flat on the wood. Gold pulled her hips to the edge and her legs parted, their hips making contact for the first time that evening. He broke the kiss as his hips ground into hers, breathing heavily before making his way down her neck, his mouth leaving a trail of little nips and wet kisses.

Belle groaned and let her head fall back, baring as much of her skin as she could to him, her hips rolling in a rhythm against the hard ridge of his cock. Just a couple of hours ago she was going to get married. There were over two hundred guests invited to the reception, four hundred pink roses for all the centerpieces, and she was out of fucks to give about any of it. She’d stood in the little anteroom of the church rectory, an old parlor with peeling floral wallpaper and dusty, empty bookshelves, and something had finally snapped.

She’d dropped to her knees in front of the bay window, a sob catching in her throat as she desperately tried to hold back tears. She had always the done the right things, the things she was told, the things that were expected. _It will ruin your makeup_ , she had told herself, even as she sniffled and blinked away the drops from her eyes. 

She gasped as Gold moved his hands from her thighs, up over her waist to cup her breasts. _And this will ruin everything._

_Good._

He pulled down the lacy cups of her strapless bra and palmed her tits, giving them a light squeeze before rolling her nipples between his fingers. She swore and he grinned, licking his lips before lowering his mouth to her chest, his tongue flicking one pink bud until she slid her fingers into his hair and pulled. Then he latched on, sucking hard as she hissed and arched her back, while the thumb of his free hand rubbed her other nipple. 

\- Gold was rough, but so was she, the need between them reaching its pinnacle as they both started yanking at his clothes with hot, desperate hands. His mouth came back to hers and she moaned against his lips, her hands sliding over his arms and down his chest, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until one popped off. He batted her hands away, undoing the rest himself, while her hands went to work on his belt. A moment later, his chest was bare and she had his zipper halfway down.

Belle’s lips were on his throat, sucking at his pulse point while his hands rolled her stockings down her quivering thighs. She worked her hand into his pants, her fingers curling around his length, moaning at the way he reacted to her touch. This seemed to be the only time he wasn’t in control, that he wasn’t the cool, calm Mr. Gold everyone feared. He was hands and lips and desperate sounds; he was _hers._

He didn’t know what her presence here meant. She’d just been there on the little front porch, cold and soaked to the bone, shivering in the remains of her wedding dress. It was like something from a movie, or a dream, a dream where she’d chosen him over her perfect life. It was impossible. In the morning, she’d leave again, and the fantasy would dissolve.

“Belle,” he breathed. “Stop.” When she didn’t, he took a shaky breath and said it again. “ _Stop._ ”

She leaned in and kissed him, softly, her eyes open and focused on his, her nails scratching down his chest.

Gold grunted and nipped at her jaw. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she replied. She stroked him slowly, sweeping her thumb over the head of his cock. 

Gold groaned. He hooked his fingers in her underwear, tugging them down her hips. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart,” he warned, but he rolled his hips in time with her hand.

Belle grinned up at him as she leaned in to kiss him again, wrapping one leg around his hips as she pulled him close, guiding his cock between her folds. She bit down on her bottom lip as he slowly eased the tip into her.

He grunted. “Yeah. _Fuck_ that’s - ” He kissed her again as his hands curled around her hips to lift her up enough for her to hook her right leg around his waist.

Outside the thunder rumbled, shaking the thin, old windows of the cabin. Another snap of lightning came, and she gasped as the lights went off. Gold started to move away, but her other leg came up, locking him in place. The only light now was coming from the fireplace, casting everything in a warm, orange glow.

“Please,” she begged. “Stay with me.”

This need she felt for him was different than before, deeper. Perhaps it was because she had nothing now. She’d abandoned her fiance at the alter, runaway from her father as he screamed at her to stop, and left her guests and a priest in shock. The limo had been right there on the curb outside the church. She hadn’t hesitated to crawl inside, not caring how wrinkled her dress might get. She yelled at the driver to go, and flung her bouquet out the sunroof as they pulled away.

Fuck them and all their expectations. If she was disowned, if she could never go home, if her father’s business went under, and her mother’s dream with it, then so be it. None of it was hers, or about her, but this was. _Gold was._

“ _Please_ ,” she said again, and Gold gave in.

She kissed him, wet and desperate, and he gripped her hips, tipping her back just a little so he could push into her. She gasped against his lips, giving him an opening to thrust his tongue into her mouth, tangling with hers. He pressed inside her slowly, like he was savoring the moment, as though it might all go away again if he blinked.

But they’d never been here before, not here at his cabin, not here with her finger free of a ring and her forgotten wedding dress soaking the old wood floor. He broke away from her lips, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes boring into her as he rolled his hips, drawing in and out. If this was a dream, it was the best one he’d ever had. He closed his eyes and lowered his mouth to her neck, breathing her in, surrounding himself with the soft scent of her.

“More,” she breathed, running her fingers through his shaggy hair as she rocked into his movements. Her hand braced again on the table, her sweaty palm squeaking over the varnish.

Gold picked up the pace of his thrusts, drawing back all the way, until only the head of his cock remained inside her before slamming into her again. 

“So - good, sweetheart,” he managed through gritted teeth. “So - _f-fucking_ good.”

Belle’s hand curled around the back of his neck to hold him close. “Oh fuck,” she moaned, her head falling back. “Yes! Yes!” 

She was close, teetering on the edge of an incredible orgasm. Her hands slid down, nails biting into his shoulders as she held onto him. He leaned in to catch her nipple again, sucking at the sensitive flesh as he kept up the steady, fast movement of his hips. He’d be feeling it tomorrow and so would she, he had no doubt about that, but they were on the cusp of something, some new madness, and he didn’t give a shit anymore. There was no denying that they’d both been waiting for this moment. It was a crossroads, an immutable point in time where their paths met once more. But if she left him now, she’d ruin him for good. He couldn’t come back from this again.

“Harder!” Belle begged. She urged him on with a roll of her hips, tilting up and taking him deeper.

Gold released her nipple with a wet little pop and laid her back on the table. He lifted her legs until they wrapped around him again, high on his waist, and used the table to leverage his movements. His ankle was killing him, threatening to give out with each thrust, but he was determined to make them both remember this. If it was to be the last time, they’d remember.

He laid over her, needing to brace his arms on either side of her to take the pressure off his bad leg. The change in angle was just what she needed though, and she cried out, her fingers digging into his biceps as her back arched up off the table. 

“ _Oh - oh fuck_ \- just like that!”

She had never been like this before Gold--so loud and demanding. Gaston wanted her to be soft and demure, the perfect little wife, but when she was with Gold, it had been hot and rough, the naughty words she’d longed to give voice to finally spilling out. She wanted to be loud, to be free, to let him know how much her body craved him, and how much her soul needed him. The next thrust made her stomach dip, and there it was, her release teasing her as she pressed up against him.

“No one else,” Gold mumbled, kissing his way to her jaw. He didn’t really know what he was saying, but a part of him wanted to believe it had never been like this with anyone else, that this was just for him. For _them._

A telltale pressure was building in his gut. He was getting closer but he needed her to come first. Her pussy fluttered around him, and he groaned, tensing his jaw to keep from losing it right then and there.

She bit her lip and nodded, clenching her intimate muscles purposefully and delighting in the way his eyes rolled back. Only Gold had ever made her feel this way, overwhelmed with pleasure and emotion. Maybe she could let herself have it for longer than a moment this time. Maybe the insanity of hiking up her her skirts and charging into the dark woods in the middle of a rainstorm was the only right thing she’d ever done.

He slipped a hand between them, his fingers brushing over her soaking wet flesh where they were joined, rubbing his thumb over her clit. She tightened around him, a soft cry leaving her as her body shuddered. His thrusts became short, sharp jerks, driving a high-pitched squeal from her mouth with every movement, dragging out the sensation of her orgasm as he chased his own. She spasmed around his cock again, whimpering as her jaw went slack. He didn’t know if she was still in the throes or if she’d somehow come again. Either way it was more than he could take and he spilled himself with a guttural cry, almost collapsing on top of her.

“Love you,” he mumbled into her neck. He almost caught himself, but if this was it he needed her to know. Damn the consequences this time.

The only sound other than the rain was their breathing as they came back to themselves. For a long moment, they stayed still, lying together, but not looking at one another. Finally, Gold straightened, his shoulder letting out a loud pop as he did so.

Belle’s eyelids fluttered open and she looked up at him, smiling, her eyes dark and dazed. There was something about her smile that made his heart skip. It was a new feeling, without the nagging guilt and self-loathing, without the question hanging between them of what they were to each other. He knew she’d heard his declaration.

She licked her lips as he helped her sit up on the table, and then wiped at her eyes. Her fingertips came away wet, but it wasn’t from the rain.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She sighed. “I’m not going back.”

Gold nodded. “Do you - do you love him?”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, and he exhaled, his body sagging with relief as he wrapped her in his arms.

“I thought I could,” she said, her words a bit muffled as she said them into the small gap between their bodies. She bit her lip as the urge to run again welled up in her belly. “But then everything I wanted to feel with him - I felt it, but not - not with him.”

Gold pulled back and looked down at her. She looked more fragile than he’d ever seen her, almost like the first time they were together. She’d had a new ring on her finger that day. But the difference was in her eyes. Where there had only been resignation and sadness before, where she’d walked away from him time and time again, leaving him always wondering, now they were clear and bright.

“Say it again?” she asked hopefully. Maybe he would play it off. Maybe she’d heard him wrong. The possibility made her chest hurt. _Please let it be real._

He swallowed and raise a hand to brush back the curl that had flopped over her forehead. “I love you.”

Belle laughed softly and kissed his chest, right above his heart. “Me too.”

 

He wrapped his arms around her again and sighed, content with her simple response. “I’m not a good man, Belle.”

She huffed and he felt a warm puff of air against his skin. “Yes, you are,” she insisted, squeezing him in her arms. She looked up again. “You are because -” she stopped and swallowed, her bottom lip trembling as she struggled to get the words out. “Because you let me be me.”

Gold smiled at her, his fingers tracing across her forehead to tuck another stray lock of hair behind her ear. They were a wet, sweaty mess, but he didn’t care. There was going to be more to clean up from this than their skin and clothes.

“Why now?” he asked.

Belle sighed. “I was wearing that - _thing_ -” she started, waving a hand towards her discarded dress, “and instead of being happy, I felt like I was...dying.” He touched a light kiss to her temple, then her eyebrow, and finally her lips as she tipped her face up.

He kissed her again and again, softly and sweetly. “And with me?” he asked finally, resting his forehead against hers.

She smiled. “I’m free.”

Their mouths met, tongues sliding and pulling out quiet little sounds in the breaths between them, their earlier urgency abated by a sense that there would be time for things now. There would be time for them.

Outside, the rain stopped.


End file.
